Page 49 of Outspoken

He frowns, actuallyfrowns, and then shrugs dismissively. “I can’t. I have a cousin’s birthday party that day and other stuff going on.”

I spin around so he doesn’t see how my cheeks are pink with rejection. “Okay. Nevermind. Bye.”

I fumble with my keys, ready for a quick escape. I've never had such a push-pull relationship withanyguy, getting flirted with, then rejected, chased, and then rejected again.

“You could come.”

I glance over my shoulder. “Come to your family party? Sounds awkward.”

“Why? My family is cool, and we always have fun. Well, if you avoid my cousin Isabel’s cooking.”

I chew my lip, considering my options. Next Saturday, I'll actually have a break—no temp jobs and no assignments due. Plus, I'll be pretty bored since Paige and Brody are going on a one-night trip to prepare Paige for their longer vacation next month. Jackie will be babysitting, so if I stay home, I'll have to hang out with Zoey. She gurgles and poops too much.

So, spend my day with a pooping, crying baby, or go to a birthday party with strangers? And Miguel.

The Miguel part wins me over, so I say, “Sure. Text me the address, time, and what to bring.” I flash a flirty smile. “I’ll wear something cute.”

“Cool.” He turns and leaves without another word.

I blink. Maybe I shouldn't have agreed if he's going to keep acting so cold.What is up with him?

Or, rather, what's up with me?

Chapter Thirteen

Amber

SITTING ON MY BED, I stare at the time on my alarm clock, angry at the butterflies in my stomach. It’s noon and I should leave for the birthday party around one-thirty. That leaves just enough time for squats that will hopefully perk my ass, followed by a shower, makeup, and stuffing myself into a dress.

I’ve been consistent with the workout Miguel showed me, but my body has remained consistently stubborn. I haven't changed my eating, but I had hoped the regular workouts would whittlesomethingdown.

Nope.

I get off the bed and then do several sets of squats until my thighs and booty burn. After a quick but thorough shower, I pull the dress Paige bought me from the closet. It’s a simple lemon-yellow A-line dress—perfect for spring—with a cowl neck that only shows cleavage if I bend at the right angle. I didn’t ask whose birthday it is today, but I’m assuming there will be kids. My goal is to be alluring enough to catch Miguel’s attention, yet appropriate for a family gathering. I can’t go too heavy on the cleavage.

The weather is a bit iffy—overcast with a potential drop in temperature—so I pair the knee-length dress with boots and my leather jacket. The jacket might be too warm, but something about it works with the dress, even if it’s a tad big.

Next, I style my hair into loose, wavy curls—making it look like I didn’t try too hard—and apply light, neutral-toned makeup. Checking myself out in the mirror, I nod my approval. I look cute yet casual enough for a kid’s party, if that’s what it is. This is one time I actuallywantto be around a crowd of kids—lots of kids mean soda and punch, no alcohol.

Even if there is alcohol, I won't drink in front of Miguel so he can keep me on that pedestal of his—if I’m still up there. I know I had previously yelled at him for having an unrealistic fantasy of me, but it’s strange…After he was so cold at the taco fest, I realized maybe it’s okay to entertain his fantasy. Maybe fantasy is what I need right now. I don’t like his intensity, but it’s nice to be seen as someone better than I actually am, even if he’ll find out the truth eventually.

My fuck-ups are inevitable.

I know I don’t fit with him—I don’t fit anywhere—but what’s the harm in pretending? Just a momentary escape.

I check the time on my phone. Time to go. When I reach Jackie’s living room, I stop when I notice who’s here.

“Paige?”

She glances up from the couch with a faint smile. Her long, brown hair cascades over her cute purple blouse and white yoga pants like a blanket. She cradles a sleeping Zoey in her arms, softly rocking her, while Jackie sits beside them, likely scrolling through Tinder. Paige moves to a gray portable crib next to the couch and gently lays Zoey on the blankets. Then she crosses the living room to give me a quick hug, her soft coconut scent all around me.

We move into the kitchen. I keep my voice low and she lowers the volume on her phone so we don’t wake the baby.

“Why are you here?” I ask, noticing her mascara and eyeshadow. She looks ready for a date. “I thought you and Brody were going to a resort near the beach?”

She sags against the kitchen counter like her body is too heavy.

I don’t hide my surprise. “What? You two fought?”

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